


Rose Madder

by Metallic_Sweet



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathing/Washing, CHERISHED Zine, Canon Compliant, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Geography, M/M, Plants, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metallic_Sweet/pseuds/Metallic_Sweet
Summary: “Thank you for not eating the dye ingredients,” Dedue deadpans.Dedue and Dimitri go to Duscur to build a college after the war.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	Rose Madder

The dye house is on the outskirts of the town called Lachemie, located in the north-east mountains of Duscur. Roots of rose madder hang from the beams extending from the northern roof. On the ground, pots of olive oil and dried dung are sealed, ready to be sent to the tanner when the next order of red leathers are finalised. Inside the dye house, large vats rest over deep fire pits. It is currently cool, but the strong scent of the dye lingers. 

For years, the dye house sat in abandoned ruin, much like the rest of the town. Lachemie, unlike the former Duscur capital of Leven, was not as badly damaged during the Tragedy and all that followed because of its location bordered by eastern the sea cliffs. Its citizenry had warning and time to flee, and it was empty when Kingdom forces came. The main road was broken by hammers, and homes in the residential area ransacked. Lachemie was not a wealthy town. The damage done was symbolic cruelty. 

It was in Lachemie that Dedue recovered from his wounds. Dedue does not remember well the journey from the outskirts of Fhirdiad where he was rescued, but he remembers arriving on the back of a grumpy workhorse in the town. He had not been well enough to traverse the terrain to enter the town without the main road, so his rescuers had tied him to the back of the horse and led them on foot. The dye house was the first building that he saw, and it had surprised him because the pots were whole and some of the roots, then completely shriveled and useless, still hung from the beams. 

“What is that?” he asked as they walked past. 

“A dye house,” Gerald, who led Dedue’s annoyed horse, affirmed, lips twitching. “Lachemie was known for the best leather and cotton dyes.” 

Those words stuck with Dedue, and he shared them with Dimitri when they reunited during the war. Since the war’s end, former citizens and artisans have returned to Lachemie. The dye house, as well as the rest of the town which specialises in tanning, weaving, and wool-spinning, will be very busy over the next few months. Dedue traveled from Fhirdiad with Dimitri, who wished to give his court and casual wear order exclusively to Lachemie and promote the newly founded Lachemie Artisan College. They arrived very late a night and only had time to apologise to the yawning innkeeper in the town center after dropping their horses off at the stables off the repaired main road. 

It is only the two of them. Dimitri comes not just as King but as a friend. If this had been five years ago in the immediate aftermath of the war, Dedue would have demanded that he go alone to Lachemie because the road was too fraught with Imperial remnants and bandits to risk Dimitri’s life. Now, Dedue feels that the benefits of this being so personal a visit outweighs the risks of only his axe and Dimitri’s lance. 

There is also the simple fact that Dedue loves the weather in Lachemie. It helps, too, that Dimitri always perks up to have time away from the Fhirdiad court. Neither he nor Dedue are particularly keen on the pettiness of court politics, even though their friends are all wonderful supporters. Sylvain, Mercedes, and Marianne are far better debaters and orators, able to work the floor and soothe noble and mercantile gripes with firmly gentle words. Sometimes Dedue imagines throwing especially annoying courtiers out the windows of the throne room. Dimitri, in the privacy of Dedue’s company and an empty training yard, bashes straw dummies with his fists to vent his own frustration. Lately, all of their frustrations had been building. A boiling point was dangerously near. 

“Dedue,” Dimitri’s voice filters in, “do you have personal business at this dye house?” 

Dedue feels his lips pull into a smile as he shifts to watch Dimitri’s leisurely progress down the main road. He left early while Dimitri was still waking up, needing some fresh air to clear his head and thoughts. The college will be expecting them to help with painting and carrying in floorboards, and there they will likely meet the dye house master. Work does not start in Lachemie until the heavy morning fog moves off to have good vision, which Dedue thinks is appropriate. Dimitri’s sight is not as good as it once was, his left eye giving him headaches from the strain of compensating for his damaged right eye. 

“I was curious,” Dedue says as Dimitri ambles up to stand by his side. “It looks like the rose madder grew very well this year.” 

“The main ingredient for local red dye, yes?” Dimitri asks, considering the roots hanging. “Are they edible?” 

Dedue snorts even as his right hand comes up to drag over his nose and his mouth. Dimitri chuckles to himself, his own hand reaching to lace his fingers around Dedue’s left palm. The town is quiet and still mostly asleep. They have the luxury to do this. 

“To my knowledge, rose madder has no nutritional benefits,” Dedue murmurs. 

“Perhaps they are not yet discovered,” Dimitri says, and Dedue highly suspects he must start paying better attention to how much time Dimitri and Alois spend together because they cook up these silly ideas with a higher frequency than Ferdinand travels. “I am the perfect candidate –”

“Dimitri,” Dedue says, very low and earning a broad beaming smile, “please do not eat the weeds.” 

It is worth the risk to hear Dimitri laugh. Choppy and full. Dimitri smiles with his entire face, his ruined eye not yet covered by his eyepatch wrinkling alongside his left. He squeezes Dedue’s hand. Dedue squeezes back. 

“A weed is just a plant whose virtue has not yet been discovered,” he says cheerfully, likely some quote a friend fed him. “Come, Dedue, we should find ourselves breakfast.” 

“Thank you for not eating the dye ingredients,” Dedue deadpans, earning a chuckle and light shove in the shoulder. “Back at the inn?”

“Yes,” Dimitri says as they turn back up the road together, hand in hand. “We will need the energy today.” 

Their good breakfast of hearty oat porridge with milk and rehydrated jerky is exactly what they need for the heavy work at the college. Dimitri’s great strength has grown since the war, and he is able to do the physical labour of four adults. Dedue has also kept up his strength, but he has an eye for fine details. He works on painting the facade of the large college building. Dedue unfortunately is not able to engage deeply with the excited artisans and labourers around him; he concentrates upon ignoring his lingering dislike for heights. 

The paint itself is a gift from Hilda, who has already had great success with her artisan academy. She will also be sending instructors from her academy to help promote Lachemie, and she, Dorothea, and Ferdinand have already made waves this past fall by commissioning opera gala outfits in Lachemie fabrics. The rich red was particularly well-received. Orders rolled in following the gala and kept Lachemie extremely busy through the fall and into the winter. It also helped rejuvenate demand for scarves and socks in Duscur wool. For the first time in almost two decades, Duscur sold all of its wool stock. 

The morale and excitement around the Lachemie Artisan College is very high. Dedue’s heart swells to hear people singing and joking as they work. Dimitri is the perfect person to help out with the heavy lifting, and he loves this atmosphere. The initial awkwardness regarding the King lugging floorboards is mostly forgotten once lunch has passed. Dimitri chugs water with the same eagerness as his fellow labourers. 

“Dedue,” Gerald says, drawing his attention back from his brief pause to watch Dimitri’s Crest flash as he lifts a large iron contraption out of the way of more floorboards, “will you and the King attend the opening?”

Dedue looks back to Geralt, who also looks back from his own curious observation of Dimitri. Most people in Lachemie did not go to war because they were either still in hiding or were not hale enough to join the battalions that Dedue commanded. Crests and their glowing appearance at activation are very unique and interesting to them. 

“That is our intention,” Dedue says as he lays out cloth to catch paint drippings over the front doors’ awning. “His Highness enjoys traveling in the summer. I am also aware that some others will likely wish to attend. Did Duchess Goneril write about that yet?” 

“She did!” Gerald laughs, and that gives a good idea of how well the town of Lachemie is becoming familiar with Hilda. “It is not a short journey, though, even now that the main road has been repaired.” 

Dedue inclines his head in acknowledgement and commiseration. He remembers well how difficult the journey was before the last time Dedue and Dimitri came to Lachemie to help repair the main road. Their old heavy armour training at Garreg Mach moving rubble and boulders had been essential not only to lightening the workload but essential to preventing occupational injuries. Byleth and Alois had arrived two days late to help them, having gotten lost in the sea cliffs. 

“His Highness and I will try to coordinate a traveling party,” Dedue says as Gerald finally manages to pry the lid off the new pot of paint. “A couple of our friends—Duke Aegir and Queen Petra—are very good at directions, but others are… not.” 

This draws another chuckle out of Gerald. Both he and Dedue dip their brushes into the pot, setting aside the conversation for dinner when they will be able to concentrate fully upon its details. 

The afternoon flies by like this. Dimitri winds down after a couple more hours of heavy lifting, paying attention to his body as he has learned to in the past couple of years. He spends time talking to different people in and out of Dedue’s earshot, including the dye master and then a very enthusiastic conversation with several weavers. Dedue snorts to himself as he hears Dimitri eagerly hashing out details for the weavers to connect with the Weaver’s Guild back in Fhirdiad. This will inevitably get him in trouble with the guild when they return to Fhirdiad. 

At the moment, there is great tension in the guild system regarding Dimitri’s support of Duscur and non-Fhirdiad-based arts. As part of Dimitri’s goal to unite and restore Fódlan, he must break the stranglehold of the old guild system on trade and export. Ignatz, Raphael, and Lorenz have been a great help in establishing new trade lines, partially because Ignatz and Lorenz are so shrewd in pushing their business interests. Petra has been instrumental in opening new borders in trade to Brigid, and Dorothea and Manuela have their own great interests in growing the Enbarr opera in accessible decadence. 

Duscur has a new and growing place in the changing market. Dedue will readily admit that the fine details are not his strength, but each time a town rejuvenates its crafts and skills with income and market prominence, he feels himself settling. He thinks of his father, a wonderfully competent blacksmith, especially in the past few months. Dedue imagines perhaps he will take up the smithing hammer again. How he will do this is a broad question. He knows little of his father’s craft, but Dimitri and Ashe have been encouraging him since he shared this idea during the Winter Solstice festival. 

As daylight winds down, the scent of a mutton roast calls everyone to put away their tools, roll up the tarps, and come into the completed dining hall attached to the college for a hearty meal. Dedue takes a short trip along to the river that bisects the town to wash off his hands and arms of paint and his face and neck of sweat. Dimitri joins him after a few minutes. He kneels down and dunks his head into the river. He resurfaces and shakes his head with a rough grunt. 

“Your Highness,” Dedue says, less exacerbated than he should be. 

Dimitri sneezes. He wipes his face with his handkerchief before plunging the cloth into the water. He uses it to wipe his hands and exposed forearms, which are covered in dirt and scratches from the plywood and beams. 

“Dedue,” he says, after sniffling and smiling, “this is a lovely town. I’ve missed getting to work with my hands.”

Dedue snorts. He folds his own damp and dirty handkerchief up and puts it in his vest. Dimitri breathes in deeply and lifts his arms above his head, arching his back and pulling his shoulders back in a stretch. 

“I wish we could do things like this more often,” Dimitri continues, and Dedue follows his gaze over the river to the residential area of the town. “It’s been two years since I last traveled without a retinue.”

“It is freeing,” Dedue agrees because the constant social politics of the King’s retinue is often as much work as traveling itself. “How is the building going?” 

“Well,” Dimitri asserts, lowering his arms and reaching to rest his right hand on Dedue’s elbow; he squeezes; “The wood is good quality. I was told it’s been cut from the strong spruce and firs in the north-west.”

Dedue feels himself smile. It brightens Dimitri’s grin, especially as Dedue reaches up and rests his right hand over Dimitri’s hold on his elbow.

“You don’t know very much about trees,” Dedue teases.

“I don’t,” Dimitri admits, very easily. “I do not have a trade aside from combat and assisted governance. But –”

He shrugs. His eyepatch is slightly askew from his dunk in the river. Dedue reaches up and adjusts it, soothing the damp fabric into a more comfortable position. He also brushes a bit of snot from the side of Dimitri’s nose. Dimitri’s gaze is content and very present. His cheeks are splattered with a pleased, ruddy blush. The red brings out the blue of his eye. 

Together, upon the riverbank: 

Dimitri is simply Dimitri, and Dedue is just Dedue. 

“Dimitri,” Dedue says, low and warm. 

Dimitri looks at him. His eye is bright and eager. He is full of life and earnestness and utter dedication and belief in their words. Their cause. 

“Dedue,” he says, and he turns his face fully so that Dedue’s kiss lands true. 

The fog is rolling in over the sea cliffs. The dye house is firing up, getting ready to melt down the solid ingredients to mash the dried roots and extract the rich dye. Lachemie is warm and buzzing with evening lamps and wishes for the future. 

Dimitri’s lips are rough. Dedue smiles against them, and Dimitri smiles back. Together, they will continue their work in the morning, but for now: 

They look towards the future with hopeful hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for _CHERISHED: A Dimidue Zine_. Connect with me on Twitter [@Metallic_Sweet](https://twitter.com/Metallic_Sweet)!


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